Andrea’s Diary: Lessons in hospital corridors

MONTREAL – Learning has switched from the classroom to the hospital room. When the call comes to assist a loved one, you drop textbooks and classmates and go. Blood chemistry numbers and terms like albumin and creatinin become your new area of study. And what a classroom this is.

Suffering takes on all manner of personalities. We are unique in our sickness just as we are in our health. There is the dementia patient down the hall who screams all day long. Only when she sleeps is there some kind of peace. There is the grandmother who remains by the bedside of her 20-year-old granddaughter. She sleeps in a chair by the bedside and has done so every night for five weeks. All day long she walks the halls.

There is the lady who shares my daughter’s room. Crohn’s disease doesn’t stop her from arranging eye appointments for her 11-year-old son, scheduling play dates for her 8-year-old daughter and helping her 19-year-old prepare for a summer job. She goes home every night from 6 to 9 and returns to sleep in the hospital, to receive nourishment through a vein while she sleeps.

She weighed 115 pounds when she entered the hospital eight months ago. Today she weighs 140 because of the nourishment provided by TPN — total parentenral nutrition. The body receives nutrition through a line to a large central vein that bypasses the digestive system. The nutritional makeup of the solution can be tailor-made to a patient’s needs.

Some patients suffer silently, never venturing out of their rooms. One man shuffles up and down the halls all day, barefoot, an ankle bracelet programmed to beep if he gets to the bank of elevators. He tried to leave today. It took four staff members to talk him out of it.

And the staff. This parallel universe, existing while a whole other world happens on the outside, is their workplace. They choose this. They are saints. Even the grumpy, angry ones. Just to show up to face everyone’s suffering day after day is so big, so brave. Whatever we pay them, it’s not enough.

Every day I meet gems. Like the vascular ultrasound operator, hidden away in her subbasement warren. This lady absolutely loves her job. She’s upbeat and cheery and she works, every day, in a dark room with no windows, uncovering clues in arteries and veins.

The quiet at night. The clamor during the day. And in the end, it’s all learning.

Comments

We encourage all readers to share their views on our articles and blog posts. We are committed to maintaining a lively but civil forum for discussion, so we ask you to avoid personal attacks, and please keep your comments relevant and respectful. If you encounter a comment that is abusive, click the "X" in the upper right corner of the comment box to report spam or abuse. We are using Facebook commenting. Visit our FAQ page for more information.